


Romance and Mayhem, What Could Be Better?

by Vythian



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vythian/pseuds/Vythian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles exploring the ridiculous situations Root and Shaw get themselves into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rocket Launcher Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys! This collection of drabbles comes from the prompts I get on tumblr. Drop by and say hello or leave a prompt! parliament-of-owlets

“What do you mean you shot her with the rocket?!”

Shaw dropped her sandwich and stalked over to the workbench where John was cleaning his gun. He set the cloth aside and looked up at the storm brewing in her eyes.

“Well Shaw, we were looking for you. It seemed like an appropriate time to use it.”

John smirked up at her before picking up the cloth to resume cleaning. Shaw wasn’t ready to give up just yet, she needed a better response to “Where is the RPG” than “We blew up Control’s car with it”.

“Seriously Reese? I thought we were saving it for a special occasion. And how could you blow up Control without me?" She jabbed her finger at him and narrowed her eyes "Not cool.”

Before John could respond, they were interrupted by the clacking of heels on the stairs. Root headed straight for the subway car, dropping her blonde wig on Harold’s chair and ruffling her hair as she passed the desk.

“Well we thought it was a special occasion. And don’t worry, I tased her enough for the both of us.”

Shaw's jaw dropped in shock as she threw her arms up in frustration “You what?! Oh come on, how is that fair? You wouldn’t even let me shoot her a little bit last time.”

Root just attempted a wink before strutting to the lockers and retrieving more ammo for the guns tucked into her waistband. Shaw wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off both their faces. After nine months in captivity and six months recuperating, she was looking forward to using that rocket. Hopefully to blow the smugness off Greer’s face, but any reason would have been fine.

“Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll get you another one on the way. Lurch, you’re coming too.”

Reese and Shaw looked at each other, confusion clear on their faces. Root continued loading bullets into spare clips before dropping them in the business satchel slung over her shoulder. A truly ungodly amount of extra clips, Shaw noted.

Reese reassembled his gun and began loading extra clips as well, tucking them into his coat pockets. Not one to be outdone, Shaw grabbed her trusty H&K Compact and the spare clips she kept ready. After tucking them into her jacket and waiting for an explanation that never came, she had had enough.

“Alright, want to tell me where we’re going and why we need such a ridiculous amount of ammunition?”

Root ambled over and threw her arm over Shaw’s shoulders (it definitely didn’t bother her like it used to).

“Well, since you asked so nicely, we’re going to get your old boss back." Root rolled her eyes at herself, as much as she wanted to, they couldn't just leave her to die. "She may be just so. much. fun. But we can’t leave her with Samaritan”.

As much as Shaw hated to admit it, Root was right. She knew what kind of torture Samaritan was capable of. And if Control really had gone looking for the truth, maybe she wasn’t as terrible as they had thought. Besides, it did mean she would get to use a rocket.

“Alright, what are we waiting for?”

Shaw slid out from under Root’s arm, grabbing her hand and heading for the stairs, her sandwich completely forgotten. Reese just smiled after them before heading out of the subway. This was going to be interesting.


	2. Fusco's Day Was Bad, John's Was Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the comm link does more harm than good, or, Root and Shaw really need to learn when to turn it off.

Fusco was not having a good day.

Between the six new cases on his desk, the captain questioning him on the whereabouts of his frequently missing ‘partner’, and finding out about glasses weirdly human all-seeing machine thing, Fusco was about ready for a break.

All he wanted was to sit on his grimy barstool at the dive bar down the street from the precinct and drink his club soda. No one to save, no calls from glasses or mr. tall-dark-and-broody, just him and his club soda. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently that was too much to ask.

John barged into the bar, throwing the door open with such force that it smacked against the wall and drew Fusco out of his thoughts. He watched first in alarm, then in amusement, as John headed straight for the seat next to him, violently wrenching out his earwig and crushing it under his heel as he stormed across the room.

“What’s got your panties in a twist? And where the hell have you been? The captain’s been interrogating me all afternoon.”

John didn’t respond. He just waved the bartender over and ordered a scotch. Fusco stared at the disgusted look on his face as he finished his drink and ordered another.

“One week Lionel. All I wanted was one week of peace. What is so hard about remembering to shut off the comms link?”

“Let me guess, cocoa puffs and miss congeniality are goin’ at it again?”

John rested his head on his hand as Lionel chuckled at his exasperation.

“I knew there was a reason they made you a detective. They were talking bondage, Lionel. Again. I didn’t stay to hear them start, but that makes three times in the last week. I don’t know how they have the energy.”

Lionel frowned, he remembered being on the other end of the comms a week ago, and it was not something he wanted to repeat any time soon. He loved how close their little family of wacko crime fighters had gotten, and he really was happy that Root and Shaw had finally gotten together, but that was not a closeness he needed to be a part of. He sighed and took a large swig of his club soda. Sometimes he really missed the drinking.

“Makes you wish for the times when it was just flirting doesn’t it. And you still never told me where you’ve been. I gotta have something to tell the captain when I head back.”

John looked lost in thought, broody grimace firmly in place. After waiting a few seconds, Lionel was sure he hadn’t heard a word he said.

“Hello? Earth to tall-dark-and-broody! Where the hell have you been?”

“I was just at the subway. I needed to check on Bear and see if Harol-” John's eyes widened as he trailed off.

If Fusco didn’t know any better, he’d say John had just been slapped across the face. He hadn’t looked that surprised and horrified since the first time they walked in on Root pressing Shaw up against the wall at the station.

John’s shock didn’t last long. He downed the rest of his scotch, barstool clattering to the ground as he stood.

“I forgot to warn Harold!”

Fusco just laughed as John bolted for the door.

“Better hurry up! Poor glasses is probably traumatized!”

He turned back to his club soda, “Again.”

Yea, Fusco may not have had the best day, but it was definitely better than John’s.


	3. Short Skirts and River Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root's been away for a while, John is unbelievably bored, and Shaw needs a skirt.

“The skirt is short on purpose,”

Shaw continued assembling and loading her gun near the locker in the subway car, completely ignoring the incredulous look on John’s face. He averted his eyes and ran a hand over his face before getting up and moving to the computers on the other side of the subway car.

“It says here the guy is a subway maintenance worker, why does that require a skirt so short it may as well be a shirt?”

Shaw sighed in exasperation, “Well, Fusco’s been following him for three days. The only place he frequents is some shady strip club called the Pretty Kitty.” She shoved her gun and a few extra clips into her purse and began heading out of the station. “And since Root is out of town, we need someone to get close to him. Hence the short skirt.”

John stood up to follow her “Hey Shaw...”

Shaw stopped as John strode over to her. “It says this guy is into some pretty bad stuff, you need backup?” She shook off his worried stare and turned to go, tossing a quick “Don’t worry, I’ve got this sleazebag” over her shoulder as she headed up the stairs.

* * *

 

Three hours later, John was camped out in front of Finch’s computers as he listened to the gunfire coming in over the comms. Apparently Mr. Sleazebag owed a hell of a lot of money to a particularly unforgiving group of Russians. The same group of Russians that Shaw was now attempting to keep from killing him.

The clacking of heels on the stairs and a lilting voice carrying through the station brought him out of his reverie.

“She says to take the back exit and head to the river. Good luck Sam.”

Root switched off her comms and strode over to the computers Reese was currently occupying.

“Don’t worry Lurch, she’ll be fine” she chirped before bumping his chair out of the way with her hip and taking over the keyboard. John stopped his chair from rolling past the end of the desk and watched as Root’s fingers flew over the keys, a series of prompts and scripts appearing and disappearing more quickly than he could track.

“Good to see you too Root. Haven’t seen you all week.” Reese looked her over, taking note of the glasses perched on her nose, the deep blue blazer, the business satchel slung over her shoulder. “Who exactly are you supposed to be this time?”

Root didn’t look away from the monitor, fingers still rapidly building…..something.

“I’m not quite sure yet” She muttered. “She only told me to dress nicely and build her another self-replicating worm. I just needed to finish and load it onto this” Root held a small silver flash drive up to John’s face before sticking it into the computer and loading whatever virus she had just finished.

As she turned to go, John called out to her.

“Need any help?” He was almost pleading, playing tech support was just so boring now that Shaw was out of danger.

“Sorry Lurch, I’ve got this one covered” Root tossed over her shoulder as she headed out into the Autumn crowds.

* * *

 

“Why should I bother?” Shaw was cold, tired, hungry, and covered in river slime. Apparently Root’s stupid Machine had meant to literally head into the river. All she wanted was a shower.

“I ordered your favorite for takeout. Please?” John was so bored. And so hungry. Was it so much to ask that his teammates share a meal once in a while?

Shaw groaned before getting up and grabbing Bear’s ball. She tossed it down the platform and watched as he bounded after it. “Fine. But how the hell did you order takeout to a secret underground subway base?”

Reese smirked and spun around in Harold’s chair “I didn’t. I just asked Root to pick it up on her way back.”

Shaw just grunted in response and watched Bear run back with the ball. A crash from the stairs drew their attention quickly to station’s entrance. Where Root was currently standing, heels in one hand and several boxes of takeout on the floor around her. She was staring straight at Shaw, mouth hanging open.

“You’re lucky those boxes didn’t split” Shaw smirked as she sauntered over to Root, closing her mouth with one finger before leaning down to pick up their takeout.

John looked on from the desk as Root shuddered, then bent down to whisper something in Shaw’s ear. She slowly reached for the takeout boxes before grabbing John’s and practically running towards him.

“SorryJohnweneedtogohomerightnow!” Root set his food on the desk before nearly racing back to Shaw. She threw her heels on before yanking Shaw up the stairs.

John chuckled. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Root that flustered. To be fair though, it was a really short skirt.


	4. Energy Bars, Surprise Punches, and a little Morning Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root needs Shaw's help, Shaw just wishes is wasn't so damn early in the morning.

Shaw was sleeping. She hadn't gotten much sleep lately with the whole "recovering-from-months-of-Samaritan-torture" thing. But she was essentially back to peak physical condition and enjoying being able to sleep through the night. So when she was awoken at dawn by a shirt and a pair of jeans smacking her in the face, Shaw was unhappy.

She sat up and looked around, grumbling about how she had only gone to sleep four hours ago. Root was already dressed and attempting to put on her boots.

"Get up Sam, She's got an address for us"

"Root, it's six in the morning, can't we at least grab coffee on the way?"

Root finished putting her boots on and headed to the hall closet to grab her taser and handguns. She glanced back at the bedroom and let out an exasperated sigh "No. We need to be downtown in 20 and with rush hour starting now, we need to hurry."

Shaw grumbled but acquiesced, getting dressed and grabbing her guns on the way out the door.

* * *

 

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Not that Shaw was opposed to punching people, especially when they looked as sleazy as this guy, but she did want answers. Especially after being dragged out of bed at five in the morning to punch this guy. Root glanced down at her before stepping over mr. sketchy guy.

“I need some information and he wasn’t exactly being cooperative. It’s just so much easier to get him to the basement when he’s unconscious.” Root leaned down to grab his wrists and started dragging him towards the stairs. Shaw’s brow furrowed and she frowned in confusion.

“Why didn’t you just tase him?”

“Well, Sameen" Root huffed as she kept draggin mr. sketchy guy "I had a feeling it might be put to better use in a bit. And besides, I knew I could count on you.” Shaw scoffed, she was too damn tired to play 20 questions with Root right now. She didn't really care what mr. sketchy guy did.

Apparently his proper name was Franklin Caliotto, according to the driver’s license Shaw had fished out of his mess of a wallet. A loud series of thumps and rattles drew her focus toward the stairwell. Where Root was now standing. Alone. She wasn’t looking nearly as guilty as she should have after tossing an unconscious human down a flight of stairs, and Shaw smirked at the thought. It was beginning to look like this morning might have been worth the early wake-up call.

Before she could ask again, Root got that far away look on her face, the one Shaw had come to learn meant she was listening to The Machine. Deciding it would be best to get this over with as quickly as possible, Shaw headed over to the stairwell to make sure Mr. Caliotto hadn’t woken up.

“I understand.” Root whispered as she shook herself out of her reverie and headed towards the basement. Shaw rolled her eyes and followed, after rushing them out of their apartment before the coffee finished brewing for this guy? Root was definitely making this up to her later.

She ran into Root on the landing between floors, “Well? Would you mind sharing with the rest of the class?”

“It appears Frankie has some information about his boss’s missing wife that we might find particularly useful. He’s also got a bum left knee and a mean right hook.”

They reached the landing and carried Frankie (Shaw decided it sounded better than his actual name, and he didn’t really deserve a name anyway, the punk) into the basement in companionable silence.

After flicking on the single lightbulb and making sure Frankie was securely fastened to his chair, all they could do was wait for him to wake up. Shaw dragged the only other chair to the shadows at the edge of the room. Torture was more Root’s forte, and Shaw was happy to simply sit and provide some intimidating backup. So she sat, half in shadow, and began devouring the energy bars Root had brought along for her.

Root strode into the circle of light just as Frankie was beginning to stir. Shaw just munched on her energy bar.

* * *

 

Root really was an artist. And with her taser and a pen knife, it didn’t take long. Shaw had just enough time to finish her second energy bar before Frankie gave up the wife’s location.

As they headed up the stairs, Shaw smirked “You know you’re totally going to make the whole ‘go punch that guy right now’ thing up to me later, right?”

Root just smiled and pulled Shaw into a kiss before disappearing up the stairs, a lilting “Absolutely” following in her wake.


	5. Cold Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root has cold feet, Shaw is not happy about it

There were lots of things Shaw loved about Root. She was brilliant, confident, and sassy as hell. She could handle a gun (or two or three) and hold her own in a fight. And she looked and walked like a freakin runway model (well, sometimes. Other times she was as gangly and clumsy as a baby giraffe. Shaw will never admit it out loud, but it’s kind of adorable).

There were also a few things that really bothered Shaw. Like the fact that Root threw herself headfirst into danger without thinking. Or how she delighted in seeing how riled up she could make Shaw in public. Or how she was constantly leaving computer parts all over the apartment. However, there was one thing that bugged Shaw more than any of these:

“Jesus Root! You do this every fucking night. Go buy some damn socks or something.“ 

Root giggled from behind Shaw, but didn’t move her feet. Which were fucking freezing. And currently resting against Shaw’s bare back. You would think a queen size bed would mean plenty of space. But Root liked to cuddle and Shaw didn’t mind. However, Shaw absolutely did mind that Root was always using her as a foot warmer. Because apparently having such long and graceful limbs meant a lack of circulation to Root’s extremities. There was simply no other explanation for the fact that Shaw could not seem to escape Root’s constantly cold feet.

"Oh come on Sameen, my feet are cold!” Root whined “And it’s not like I can wear socks to bed, that’s weird.”

Shaw rolled over and yanked her shirt back down “You absolutely  _can_ wear socks to bed Root. Or fucking coals stuffed in your sheets. Or anything. Because now I’m cold and it’s all your fault.”

Root’s face was hidden in shadow, her head silhouetted by the light from the window behind her, but Shaw could practically feel her mock-pouting. She rolled her eyes and shuffled closer.

Root smirked into the darkness and wrapped her arms around Shaw, intertwining their legs as she hummed  "Why Sameen, do you want me to warm you up? Because I have a few ideas.“

Shaw pulled Root closer, nuzzling into her neck and humming against her skin "I just wanted you close so you can’t put your stupid ice-box feet on my back”.

Root giggled before grabbing Shaw’s shoulders and pushing her to arm’s length. She brought her knees up to her chest and pushed.

“Goddammit Root that is not what I meant!! Get your feet off my stomach!” Shaw scrambled back and Root rolled away, nearly falling off the bed and gasping for breath between bouts of hysterical laughter.

Root felt hands tug at her wrists and the laughter died in her throat. Shaw bracketed her hips, pinning her hands above her head and leaning in low. Root suddenly found herself entirely too warm.

“You are absolutely going to make that up to me” Shaw growled.

Root smirked. “Don’t worry Sameen, I’m sure I can think of plenty of ways to make it up to you.”

Okay, so Root’s feet were always cold, Shaw was pretty sure she could live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I just wanted to let you all know that updates from here on out are going to be a bit sparse.   
> I've got some real world deadlines rapidly approaching and very little time to write. But if you have any prompts or ridiculous situations you want to see our two lovely idiots get into, just drop by my tumblr and I'll get to it as soon as I can.   
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
